Once Upon a Time
by Tinkerellabelle
Summary: She was never meant for Fairytales.


Note: Yeesh. I dunno about this one. I'll read through it and really like it and then I'll read through it again and really hate it. I think maybe there's too much repetition or too much focus on romance or too much _something_. And I know it's horribly clichéd and an overused concept and all that jazz, but I haven't written anything in about four hundred years, so I figure I better bite the bullet and upload. Yeesh.

Oh, yeah, and okay, I started writing this before I read HBP and then came back to it, but I don't think it really matters. It could be set anytime after book four. Just thought I'd warn ya. And while I'm warning about stuff, I should say that if you don't like run-on sentences, you'd better leave and stay far, far away.

Also, feedback would be the highlight of my year, so please, please review. Praise, constructive criticism, whatever… I must work out of my literary rut. Help me help myself. PLEASE.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I'm really, _really _flattered if you thought I did.

A New Note: Yeah, this has been deleted and re-uploaded because of a tiny formatting error which was driving me nuts. Sorry about that. But to the two people who reviewed before I deleted it, thank you so much! Your feedback really helped.

There was a girl, once, with big teeth and hair that stuck out at least six inches from her head. She was very kind and very brave and very smart. So smart, in fact, that she often liked to pretend the reason her hair was so big was to make room for her exceptionally large brain. She had no excuse for her teeth.

She often thought of herself as a Cinderella of sorts, this girl, even though she knew she really shouldn't because she had two lovely parents, and all the books and toys and clothes she could wish for, and she had never once been asked to sweep out a chimney. It was just so very lonely, you see, because she'd always been _different_, in a peculiar way that had nothing to do with her being kind or brave or smart, although those things were quite enough to set her apart from a good many people.

When she was eleven years old, the girl escaped. A letter came, and it explained everything, and as it turned out, she wasn't so very different after all. She was _special_ and that had a much nicer ring to it. A magic steam engine whisked her away to a new life in an Enchanted Castle. It was a bit like a Fairytale, she thought, or would have been if she'd been a bit prettier. She waited for her Happily Ever After.

She thought perhaps she should have a Prince Charming and decided to look for one. She found a very nice boy, with lovely green eyes and dark hair and a great slash across his forehead, and she knew straight away that he was a Hero because she'd read all about him, of course. She was a Cinderella, a Princess, and he was a Hero, and it made sense for him to be her Knight in Shining Armor, or perhaps it would have if she hadn't realized so quickly that, much more than needing a Princess, her Knight needed a friend. She decided she'd be that for him instead.

There was another boy, beside the Hero. A perfectly _awful_ boy, with hair that clashed with his face and more freckles than should have been allowed. She didn't want to be his Princess, not even a little bit. She didn't _want _to be his friend, really, or she didn't want to want to, if that made sense, which it must have because she _always _made sense. No, she didn't want to be a friend to this awkward, rude anti-Hero. But, one day, she was. She found out eventually, of course, that this perfectly awful redhead was not really so different from her. Deep down, he was very kind and even very smart, when he wanted to be. But most of all he was very brave, without knowing it, which is, of course, the very best sort of bravery there is.

Very soon after reaching her destination, the girl realized that she was still different, even here, but she found that with her new friends, the Hero and the unconsciously brave redhead, she didn't mind nearly so much. They were different too (but of course everyone is different in one way or another; some are just more obvious about it than others), and this probably had something to do with it.

She spent many years in the Enchanted Castle. She fought countless battles and helped destroy an impressive number of villains. Each time she waited, again, for Happily Ever After, but it never came, and after awhile, she pretended to stop hoping. Many things changed in the girl's life. She grew up, rather faster than she'd meant to. Her teeth shrank, and even though her hair did not (but, if you will recall, she had a perfectly sound excuse for this), she managed to feel almost pretty sometimes, in her way.

And one day he was there. A Prince from a Faraway Land, and he was rich and he was talented, and quite brave as well, although she suspected that it may have been a rather forced type of bravery, and that he was all too aware of possessing it. But she thought, perhaps, she could forgive him for it since he was so perfect in every other way.

But there were some things about this Prince that were completely _un_forgivable. His hair was the wrong color, for one thing, and his face was too clear, and he let her get away with absolutely anything. She knew, of course, that such things shouldn't matter, but for some reason they did, and she realized that she didn't always make sense anymore and was secretly glad of it.

And somewhere in the middle of all this growing up and fighting villains and not making sense anymore, it became very clear to her – clearer than anything had been in a long time – that she had fallen in love, with the most unlikely person imaginable. He wasn't Prince Charming, but then she'd never _really_ been a Princess, no matter what she'd used to pretend, and she was surprised to find that this didn't bother her in the slightest. She was equally surprised to realize that Prince Charming was not what she needed at all, and, what's more, was not what she wanted. What she wanted was an awkward, incredibly freckly, somewhat childish redheaded boy. And the most absolutely wonderful thing about it was that, even though he was nothing like anyone she'd ever read about in a Fairytale – even though he would never be a Hero – he had always been a _hero_.

So the girl, and her hero, and her Hero continued to be different or special or whatever they were, and they found themselves in the middle of a war, and things like Enchanted Castles and bushy hair lost their significance. At the end of the day, it isn't perfect beauty or pretty incantations that keep you alive, but a very different sort of magic, and she had it in spades.

The war is not over yet, and that girl is still alive today, fighting impossible battles somewhere with her Knight and her redhead. She hasn't got her Happily Ever After yet, and she probably never will. But I think, now, that even if she did, she would have very little patience for it. She was never meant for Fairytales, but for life -- no matter what sort of world she lives in. And she certainly has that now, though how long it will last I don't presume to know. But I'm not worried. Because that girl is very kind and very brave and very smart.

She's a hero, without knowing it. Which is, of course, the very best sort there is.


End file.
